Blackwater Islands dread

time blinked away. each breath, each step a leap across days, weeks.

and when at last her vision cleared, the prophet found herself once again confined to her beloved islands — alone. wholly alone.

how long...?

even her iron guardian had faded from these islands, untethered. their children, grown and flung to the corners of the earth to bring balance. chaos and respite by turns. once, that had been her task. a task she had failed.

too long...

weakened by moons of malnutrition and neglect, the listener made the daunting trek to the islands' outskirts. through dark water and under drooping tree-cover, across dirt and stone etched with the faded scent of her keeper. she went to the bridge of souls.

and for the first time in her life, raised her voice in search of another. the prophet called for her iron guardian, her lover, her equal; her @Ingram.

she would linger there for days, perched at the edge of what had once been her domain. waiting. and each day she would call for him. he would return. he must.